My Crumbling Empire Careful which hand you shake.
  • How to catch a pony

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    November 27th, 2010adminUncategorized

    One of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen in my life was my stepdad chasing two ponies down the freeway. The ponies, Shadow and Blackie, were bequeathed to us from a couple my parents used to do drug deals with, so I can only assume they came to live in our walnut orchard as the result of a deal gone awry.

    Ordinarily, any preteen girl would be thrilled to have not one, but two ponies of her very own. But there was something surreal and depressing about seeing the creatures amid the remains of other desperate payments from deals gone bad: the broken-down go-cart, the mini motorcycle, the crossbow and target. Our walnut orchard was the final resting place of a bounty of ill-gotten treasures.

    The ponies lived there until the day they moseyed on up our driveway and found themselves smack in the middle of Interstate 5. Oddly, they ran a few laps around our house before my stepdad realized what they were up to. He then started to chase them. Just him. No backup. One man—two ponies.

    I remember watching from the porch and thinking, “What the hell is he going to do when he catches them?” and wondering how you’d catch not one, but two ponies. Around the neck? Sleeper hold? He was yelling a lot, but that wasn’t working. You just haven’t lived until you’ve seen a screaming man galloping down the freeway after two ponies.

    Ultimately, the ponies ended up in the pound, and my sister and I missed them, along with our happy days sneaking out to take turns at the salt lick. But the memory of the two carefree animals trotting down the interstate as a wild-eyed, red-faced man ran after them, cursing and screaming, is worth all the salt licks in China.

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4 responses to “How to catch a pony” RSS icon

  • Jenny PezDeSpencer

    You never get old. Ever. I loved that story. It is as good as when I discovered a cow in a 7/11 parking lot in Reno, Nevada that had gotten out. I called the cops but the cow was not having it. They chased her on Highway 50 going towards Carson City for 45 mins. And funny enough she ended up running back through the fence she came from.

    Jenny

  • Hello, Amy. Remember me? Just writing to say I’m a fan of your blog. I’ve been reading for months now. Can’t remember how I picked up on it, but I find myself coming back every once in a while to see if there’s anything new. I’ve actually even read a few entries out loud to my wife for a good laugh.

    In any case, keep the posts coming. Best.

  • well, well, well. If it isn’t Aaron Fox. The very same Aaron Fox who called me “piggy” in high school, then cackled like a grade school child with Bubba. It seems now that I have tricked you into giving me a compliment, one that you can never retract. Lovely to hear from you, Aaron. And thank you for telling me nice things. I love that.

  • Ha! I never called you “piggy”, did I? Sheesh. I sure hope not. Either way the compliment stands. Lovely to hear from you as well.


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